The Thing about Husbands
by The Hark-ness monster
Summary: Sherlock said he was married to his work, but now John Watson is as much a part of his work as anything. Maybe all it takes is a little misunderstanding for things to fall into place...


BBC Sherlock

A Johnlock fan fiction

The Thing about Husbands…

Frankly, Sherlock never would have dreamed of taking this case had it not been a personal request from Mrs. Hudson. He just couldn't say no to that sweet old face…and the whole thing honestly sounded like a case better suited for Mycroft, but since Mrs. Hudson's niece was involved, Sherlock thought he'd better take a look.

He remembered something about treasure hunting ex-husbands and pirates in Cuba and cryptic letters but he mostly hadn't been listening when Mrs. Hudson detailed the situation. That's why he had John. John was his ears.

He was bored the whole way through London to Lorraine Hudson's flat. In the cab he had heard the sound of John talking, but again, he wasn't listening. His nose was shoved in his phone asking Lestrade if he had anything interesting that he was too stupid to figure out on his own.

They arrived at the place and filed out of the car. It was a fine flat in the nice part of town. It was small but well kept. The whole thing screamed young, independent, divorced woman. They rang the doorbell. It chimed a cutsie melody, just as Sherlock had suspected.

A tall, thin woman with wavy brown hair and grey-green eyes answered the door. "Yes?"

Sherlock quickly picked out which features belonged to Mrs. Hudson's side of the family (her fathers) and which she inherited from her mother. He knew approximately how long she'd been divorced, what kind of job she worked and her hours. She had no children or pets except a bird which he heard chirp in the background and she was thinking of getting a dog. She had garden on the roof in which she grew her own vegetables; probably a health-nut vegetarian. He knew a dozen other things about Lorriane Hudson before she even introduced herself.

"You called your aunt about some strange letters you've been getting," he stated.

She looked confused, eyes darting between John and Sherlock and then realization dawned on her face.

"Ohh! You must be that Sherlock fellow she mentioned on the phone. Well it would have been decent of her to warn me she was sending you over. Of course I already talked to one of the Holmes boys about the letters, I thought the matter'd been taken care of."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in surprise and repulsion at the mention of his brother.

"I'm sorry, did you say you already talked to someone about this?"

"Yes. He wasn't very helpful but he had your last name so I thought he must've called on your behalf. My aunt mentioned you always had a funny little fellow who helps you out," John wrinkled his nose in distain. "At first I took him to be your husband, with the same last name and all, but now I see that that's not the case since it's clear that this man here is your husband." She moved an elegant hand to indicate John who looked shocked and maybe a little offended.

"Erm…hang on…" he said but Lorraine dismissed him and kept on talking.

"And thank God for that. I can't imagine it'd be a happy home with you and this other Holmes fellow. From what I've heard of you and what I got from him, that house would be downright dreadful, I imagine."

Sherlock sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "You have no idea."

John was still in shock at her accusation of him being Sherlock's husband. And he was utterly dumbfounded that Sherlock hadn't mentioned it yet.

"So he's your brother then, this Mycroft?" she asked.

"Yess…" Sherlock hissed with annoyance.

"Yes, I thought as much." Her eyes fell once again to Watson whose expression was still baffled. "Oh dear me, well where have my manners gone. Why don't you and your husband come inside and have a seat."

Sherlock moved to oblige without another word but John's outburst stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, not this again! How many times do I have to say this, I'm not his husband," he raged. Then his tone turned bitterly sarcastic and he laughed. "You know, Sherlock, why don't you and I just bloody get married so we don't have to worry about disproving the whole damned 'husband' thing every bloody time it comes up?" he fumed.

Sherlock's expression turned distant, deep in thought, and he said nothing. Lorraine was silent, raising her eyebrows at the small man's outburst. Then, after a moment of awkwardness, Sherlock replied. "Alright."

"Wait, what?" John stuttered. "Alright to what?"

"Yes, I will marry you," he said flatly, appearing to be completely serious.

"What! No, I wasn't asking it was-"

Lorraine Hudson's face lit up. "Oh, how exciting! I'm so happy for you! I'd better get an invitation to the wedding!" She winked at Sherlock who gave her an irritated smile.

"No…we're not…" John grumbled angrily, then Sherlock turned to him and said, "Well I think we should be getting to work then with Mycroft on our tail, shouldn't we, sweetheart?" He smiled and followed Lorraine inside.

"Right. Do come in boys," she said.

John lingered on the front step a while longer, baffled, sighing and mentally kicking himself. "Why does no one listen to me?" he said to himself, but Sherlock heard him and called back from halfway down the hall, "I listen to you, dear."

John sighed once more. "Apparently," and he followed after them, yelling to Sherlock, "and don't call me that!"

* * *

They sat awkwardly in silence in Lorraine's sitting room while she fumbled around the kitchen. She had apologized about not being prepared while she tidied up and hurried off to get them some tea.

John was still bristled about the fiasco at the front door while Sherlock seemed startlingly unphased by the event. He stared vacantly at the sea foam green wall while John cleared his throat a good three times before saying anything to his companion.

"Why'd you say yes," he finally mustered up the nerve to ask. He approached the topic with caution, dreading it would only make things worse.

Turning to John Sherlock looked confused. "To what are you referring?"

"Oh you know what I'm talking about," John scoffed. "Just a minute ago I asked you, _sarcastically _mind you, to marry me and you said yes." He paused. "What's that about?"

Sherlock wiped confusion from his face and grew very serious. Touchy subject. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked away from John. He folded his hands awkwardly in his lap, sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, and tapped his foot nervously on the floor. "I was being honest," he mumbled.

If John hadn't known better he would have said Sherlock was just a tiny bit embarrassed, but he knew Sherlock didn't get like that. He was the proudest, most stubborn bastard John had ever met…and yet…

The doctor raised an eyebrow at the detective. "You were being serious?" He had to admit, he was more than a little surprised, and strangely, a tiny bit flattered as well.

"Of course," Sherlock spat, getting defensive. A brief silence fell and he shot John an accusatory look. "Were you?"

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. At Sherlock's question he could only laugh. He thought the answer was obvious. But then he thought about it for a while longer…

"Well," he said. "We might get some nice benefits."

He grinned at Sherlock whose eyes, cold and seductive, lit up while his lips curved into a coy smile; that look that John secretly loved.

Just then, Lorraine bustled unaware into the tense atmosphere carrying a tea tray.

"Sorry boys. I would've been better prepared but I wasn't expecting you," she apologized, setting the tray on the table between her and them and then taking a seat on the couch behind her. She set a pair of rectangular reading glasses on her face, which Sherlock knew she wore despite never having seen her wear them. She didn't much look like Mrs. Hudson except for when she smiled and Sherlock noticed the wrinkles around her eyes beginning to form. They made her look young and old at the same time. He knew that as she aged she would develop more startling similarities to his landlady.

"So…" Sherlock began. "Your husband's been sending you strange things in the mail?"

"Ex-husband," she corrected. "Yes. Here, let me get them for you." She rose from her seat and moved into the next room where she gathered up a few manila envelopes and loose papers that were spread over the kitchen table. She set them down before Sherlock who dived into them, sifting through them rapidly.

"So," John said to Lorraine, "what was your husband like," in a casual conversational tone.

"Oh, I could go on for days about Robert's eccentricities." She rolled her eyes. "But perhaps the one you'd be most interested in is that he was a treasure hunter."

Sherlock grumbled in half-hearted acknowledgement, as if to say, 'not a surprise at all,' and he continued to pore over the papers.

"That man was always on about some big national secret or hidden treasure or pot of gold somewhere."

John hummed and took a sip of his tea. "I imagine that's why Mycroft's after you."

"Really? Would you like to hear my personal theory?" She looked down at Sherlock who seemed to ignore her. Realizing he didn't care one bit, she turned back to John and said, "I think its pirates," in a mysterious voice.

"Pirates?" John raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Sherlock didn't even blink.

"Yea," she said. "Before the divorce he was always on about moving us to Cuba to search for some ancient buried riches or ruins of some sort. There's no return address on those enveloped but I think after we split he took himself down to Cuba to peruse his mad delusions."

Sherlock lifted one of the packets to his face and took an exaggerated sniff. They waited for his consensus. "Yes, definitely Cuba."

"So why do you say pirates?" John asked as Sherlock resumed working, shifting rather loudly through the pile of papers.

"Well, he's being real secretive, sending me all sorts of codes and pictures of places that look like hideouts and things. To be honest I'm not quite sure what he expects me to do with all this stuff. I suppose that's why you two are here, to help me figure that out. But if you'd only met him you'd know that he would be just the sort to get tangled up with pirates and people of that lot." She sighed. "But that's the problem with men, isn't it? They're always getting into trouble. And they can be such a pain in the ass sometimes."

John laughed, drank his tea and set it down on the table. "You don't have to tell me twice, I live with Sherlock Holmes." He glanced at his flat mate with a look that was hard to read. "I swear, this man nearly makes me jump out a window twice each day." When Sherlock realized they were talking about him, he paused for a moment and listened. "It's a good thing we've already tested that a fall from our flat won't kill a man." He laughed.

"Excuse me, John," Sherlock cut in, offended. "Are you criticizing me right now? Because I do believe you were the one who proposed to me just a few minutes ago. You're sending mixed signals now and I'm not quite sure how to interpret them." He burrowed into the evidence once more.

"Oh for God sake, I didn't…You see what I mean?" he said, giving up on Sherlock and turning back to Lorraine.

"My God, you two are like an old married couple already." Sherlock and John exchanged a glance. "But that's good, it means you've got chemistry." She smiled at them both

John, perhaps a little bit bitter about Sherlock's remark on mixed signals, said nothing.

"So why do you suppose he's been sending me these things then, Sherlock?" Lorraine asked.

"It's obvious he needs you to do something with all this information," he replied, "but he's not allowed to say. As soon as I crack this code I hope I can figure out what exactly. You must have access to something here that he does not. Either that or he's just showing off for you."

"Knowing Robert, probably both," she said, sighing. "But that's the thing about husbands. They're always showin' off for their mates. And they are really quite needy." She grinned up at them and said cheerfully, "You two should find that out soon enough."

John just laughed, looked at Sherlock and said simply, "I think I already have."

* * *

Some months later, another envelope showed up at Lorraine Hudson's flat. But it was not from Cuba. It was sent from 221B Baker Street and it was white and beautiful and embossed with shining gold. It was a wedding invitation for the union of Sherlock Holmes and John Hamish Watson.


End file.
